


Jump.

by DesolateYears



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Heavy Angst, Keith (Voltron)-centric, One Shot, Please read with caution, Short One Shot, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt, no happy ending, trigger warning, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2019-11-22
Packaged: 2021-02-18 01:16:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21519538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesolateYears/pseuds/DesolateYears
Summary: keith offs himself.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	Jump.

**Author's Note:**

> Do not read if suicide triggers you. 
> 
> This isn't fun at all. I'm just depressed.

I’m writing this letter to let you know I’m really leaving.

—

A scratching at his neck and pulling of his hair. It’s irritating but it needs to be tight enough or else he’ll just paralyze himself.

The squeak of the old rickety chair beneath his feet. He rocked himself forward, feeling the pull at his throat and his heart picking up pace. His breath becoming labored, swallowing his spit, and just looking down, down, _downdowndown_.

—

Lance is studying for finals, on the phone with his girlfriend, laughing.

Pidge is still napping after a long day of school, all curled up with her favorite blanket.

Hunk’s cooking spaghetti for his family while his siblings set the table.

Shiro is finishing his work up later than usual, rubbing at his temples, ‘brows scrunched together.

—

He’s sweating now.

Through his clothes even and it’s really fucking _gross._

He wishes he had some water. His throat feels so dry. He’s already struggling to breathe and he hasn’t even taken the god damn jump yet.

He’s going to, though. He is going to take the jump if it’s the last thing he’ll do.

—

Allura’s talking excitedly with her mom and dad about a new project she’s working on.

Coran has a towel wrapped around his shoulders, hair slicked back, shaving cream on his face with razor in hand.

—

He can hear his heart beating in his ears, everything is so loud.

The dripping from the faucet sounds like fucking gunshots in his ears and the squeaking of his chair like fireworks.

He lets go.

The chair smacks against the ground and Keith opens his clenched eyes. Choking, choking, _why the fuck am I choking, fuck fuck fuck fuck._

He couldn’t even snap his neck on the fall, he wants to laugh and cry but all he can do is scratch at the noose and try gasping for breath.

He can’t breathe. _I can’t breathe._

Wide-eyed, the last thing he sees is the grimy couch and old box tv set.

—

And no, I’m not keeping your shit.


End file.
